


Bearskin

by the_hexerer



Series: A fairytale of hobbits, bears, and dwarven kings [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Post-Battle of Five Armies, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Deal with a Devil, Dwarves in the Shire, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fairy Tale Style, Kinda, M/M, Or a wizard, POV Thorin, ReShirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28982421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_hexerer/pseuds/the_hexerer
Summary: This is a tale of the harsh life of one dwarven king and how he was forced to wander Middle Earth as an outcast until he met a young hobbit, who let him into his home and thus stole his heart, and maybe even what happened after that.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Series: A fairytale of hobbits, bears, and dwarven kings [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095707
Comments: 35
Kudos: 189





	Bearskin

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone out there! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧  
> Well, the secret is out.  
> Sorry to keep you in suspense for so long!! And great job everyone, who figured out that “Mugr” is based on “Bearskin” by the Brothers Grimm! I’m proud of y’all and your intimate knowledge of old German stories ;) It’s one of my absolute favorite fairytales! If you do not know it, you can read it here: https://www.grimmstories.com/en/grimm_fairy-tales/bearskin. I recommend it, of course ;)  
> I did have to change some things (especially the very end, unfortunately) to fit the setting in Middle Earth, but I believe this second part of the series generally overlaps very closely with the original.  
> I hope you’ll like it! And if you find any mistakes, do tell me, please!  
>   
> (Oh, and I hope all questions will be answered with this! If not, just go ahead and ask :D)

“There once was a dwarven prince who lost his home at a young age to a heinous fire-drake. His people wandered Arda for many a year, trying and failing to rebuild their lives after such tragedy. For their neighbors, both elves and men, did not welcome them, due to age-old mistrust and newer grievances caused by the old king of the dwarrow, who’s madness and gold-lust were said to have brought the dragon upon the mountain. Raged and traumatized as they were, the dwarrow could not find much aid with their other kingdoms either. Their great numbers were too much even for the friendliest of the other dwarven realms, and so they crossed half the western world as refugees and roamers, living without the protection of the mountains and trying to earn coin wherever possible, not shying even at the most sordid tasks in order to feed themselves.

When they finally reached the Blue Mountains, uninhabited since ages past, they were weary and tired, and so they settled there, in ruins of old, only comforted by being under rock and stone again. And though they no longer had to wander under open sky, the mountains could not sustain them in their great numbers. Still, they had to fight for their survival and sell their work at whatever price the Tall Folk deemed to pay. This went on for a few years yet, and many dwarrow were discontent, most of all their old ruler, who wished for nothing more than to reclaim another kingdom lost long ago, where the mountains still held inconceivable riches and could surely not only sustain his people but even make his rule great again, if not greater than any before. Unfortunately, this old kingdom was no longer in the hands of any dwarrow, but filled with the foulest, darkest, and most cruel creatures. Orcs and goblins and worse, in numbers beyond imagine, lurked in the once sacred halls of the dwarrow’s ancestors. This, however could not dissuade the old, mad king from marching against these fell beings with an army consisting of every halfway able-bodied dwarf their destitute settlement in the Blue Mountains could spare. It was a long and cruel battle, and it was futile. So many lives were lost, and although the dwarven warriors came to a narrow victory before the gates of their kingdom of old, they could not enter the mountain, where more dark things still dwelt.

Grief-stricken, their numbers greatly diminished, the dwarrow could find no joy in their victory and no more strength to continue. For not only had every family lost at least one member, but also their king had fallen. His son’s body was never found, and even his grandson lay amongst the dead, not yet of age but slain in battle. The dwarven prince, eldest grandson of the old king, had fought as well, and now was the last one of the once so strong royal line, save his little sister, who awaited the arrival of her family in the Blue Mountains in vain.

The battered warriors returned to their barren settlement and yet again had to depend on the whims of the menfolk for their survival. While their reduced numbers made it easier for the young king to feed his people in the early years of his reign, their new home only gave its inhabitants barely enough to survive but never nearly enough to thrive. So, the king without a kingdom worked along with his people and went out in the world to sell his work at any price and bring back coin to his meager realm. He further went to many of the other dwarf lords, asking for aid once more, but they were hardhearted and refused him and told him to fend for himself. Many years the king and his people worked themselves to the bone, but still the food and coin became less with each year, his dwarrow’s faces waned, the children’s laughter in the mountain grew quieter, and the king’s anger and bitterness at the world showed itself more often.

One year, after the harshest winter yet, when the king made his way back to the settlement after months of working in the cities of men, yet failing to earn enough coin to even get his sister and his sister-sons through the upcoming winter, he came to a wide meadow where only a ring of trees stood tall. There he sat down to rest, and thought of his fate and the fate of his people.

“I have no coin, nor will any of my companions bring home riches. The Blue Mountains have no more than a few coal mines left, and none of the other dwarf lords are able or willing to help me and mine. My birthright is the nest of a fire breathing worm, and no one dares to even try to reclaim it. I can see my future: I will starve within the year and all of my people with me.”

But then a roar was in the air, not unlike the day the dragon came, and when he jumped to his feet and turned around with his sword prepared to strike, an unknown man stood in front of him, imposing, wearing white robes, and carrying a dark staff.

“I know what it is, you are missing.” said the man, “You shall have coin and gold as much as you can spend. But first I need to know whether you are fearful, so I do not spend my gold for naught.”

“Do you wish to ridicule me?” the king spat, “A dwarven warrior does not fear! You may test me all you like.”

“Very well,” answered the man, “do look behind you.”

The dwarf turned yet again, and saw a great bear growling and charging towards him with great speed and agitation. His trusted sword still at hand, the king launched himself against his opponent, and fought bravely until the bear dropped and moved no more.

“I well see,” said the stranger, “that you do not lack courage. Yet, I have another requirement for you to fulfill.”

“As long as my people are not harmed, nor my loyalty towards them,” answered the dwarf, who was cautious of the tall man and his tempting promises, “otherwise I will not be involved in anything.”

“You will see that for yourself.” the white man replied. “You may not wash yourself within the next seven years, not comb your beard and hair, not trim your nails, and not pray to your Creator. Then, I will give to you a coat and cloak, which you must wear during this time. Should you die within these seven years, you will be mine. If you live, however, I will have no claim over you, and you will be rich enough until the end of your days.”

The dwarf thought about the hardship and poverty of his people, and how he yet lived despite the many skirmishes and gruesome battles of his life. He would risk it, and agreed.

The white wizard pulled a white coat from within his robes, and gave it to the dwarf, while stating: “As long as you have this coat on you, and reach into its pouch, your hand will be full with coin.”

Then he skinned the bear and said: “This shall be your cloak and also your bed, for you must sleep on it and never in another bedding. You will further speak to no one of this deal and all its details.” Hereupon, the wizard vanished.

The dwarf put on the coat and immediately reached into the pocket to see that all was as the stranger had promised. He then pulled the bearskin around his shoulders, and went on towards the Blue Mountains with a lighter heart and hope in every step. On his way, he bought blankets and food, as much as he could carry, and then ponies to carry even more.

When he reached his home, his sister and his people rejoiced for they knew they would survive the winter. Where his good fortune and sudden riches came from, however, none could fathom. And once the initial relief and happiness had settled some, the rumors grew. For not only did their king bring coin aplenty almost out of thin air, he also behaved in a foreign and strange way. He would not bathe or sleep anywhere but the floor, and never remove his curious coat and pelt. During ceremonies and prayers, he would be silent and, worst of all, he refused to care for his hair and beard. The first few months, nothing much was amiss, but when a year since his return had passed, he looked more like a wild animal than a dwarven king, and his people became increasingly distressed and called him mad as his grandfather had been. And while the king could not be dissuaded from his ways, and kept on ruling and working for and with his people as he had in years past, his sister and his closest advisors feared for him, his honor, and his life.

His hair and beard resembled rough felt, his fingers had claws, his formerly white coat was now any color but that, and his face was covered with dirt and grime so much that, had you sowed cress into it, it would have started to grow. His own people ran from him, called him bewitched, and named him “Old Mugr” – that means “bear” – behind closed doors. But since he cared for them, and brought a new stability into his halls with the growing funds, and always only asked for a prayer for him as he gave out his coins, none dared to openly stand against him.

Yet, as a king he could no longer be seen, and his sister took over his royal tasks and meetings like she had in the years when he had went away for work. After another year, the settlement started to prosper, the dwarrow were no longer starving, the children more carefree, and the relations to any neighboring towns not strained by one-sided dependence anymore. His pockets full of coin were no longer the only strand their survival hung on, and his queer ways alienated him to all of his people more and more. Not wishing to cause unrest and trusting in his sister’s abilities as a capable ruler, the dwarf left one night in the spring of the third year, and went out into the world once more.

It was not a bad life, for although he was feared for his appearance, he could pay well and therefore got whatever he had a need for when in the dwellings of men. If he encountered dwarrow, he would gift them hands full of coin, and only ask they pray for him and his survival in return. Most days, he wandered far from men and elves and dwarrow, and only lived on what the nature around him would give him, for he did not seek adventure. Every few months, he would near the Blue Mountains and search from afar for signs of trouble, and when he continued to find none, he would leave some of his gold in the middle of the night where it could be found the next day and disappear into the woods once more, and he was quite content for a while.

When the trees changed their colors and the sun stood lower in the sky, he found a little cave, southeast of his mountains, and close to the dwellings of small creatures, who lived in green hills and did not seem to have a care in the world. He would often watch them and think on how they had food and comfort in abundance, while he and his had been on the brink of starvation not three years past, and only a pact with the wizard had saved them for now. And then he would return to his cave, more of a burrow really, like a bear readying himself for hibernation. The winter was mild, and he could make his way up to the mountains throughout the coldest months still, and he lived on like this, travelling between his peoples’ homes and his own, for the cave had become his home.

The fourth winter, however, was long, cold and dark, and rich with snow and storms, and he could not leave his cave for the mountains, and even his bearskin could not keep him warm for long, and since the game within the forest had become scarce, he went hungry more days than not.

One evening, when he stomped through the snow after patrolling his snares in vain, cold and alone as always, and wishing for the seven years to have passed already, he heard faintly the sounds of distress and calls for help. As he ran towards the noise, he could make out the shapes of several creatures between the trees. Three of the hobbits, his involuntary neighbors during the last year, stood against several wolves.

The beasts were mangy, and skin and bones. They, in their hunger and frustration, must have come far from their usual dwellings in search for food in this harsh winter. One of the hobbits laid on the ground, another trying to help her up, and the third stood between them and the snarling wolves, swinging a walking stick and screaming and yelling on the top of his lungs, which really was little effective against hungry beasts almost twice his size. The dwarf did not falter and kept running towards the little group, one axe in each hand, and with a battle cry was upon the wolves.

A pack of desperate beasts, however, was a fair opponent for a cold and hungry dwarf, and so the fight was not an easy one, and although he killed several of the wolves and the others eventually fled, his blood had been drawn, and he was weary and weak and breathing hard as he turned toward the hobbits. The hobbits, who had fled just as well, and so he was all by himself in the cold snow and so very tired that he was not able to move much, and it seemed impossible for him to reach his cave. And when he thought that now he would lose the bet he had with the wizard and never see his sister-sons again, the young hobbit with the walking stick came back for him.

The dwarf barely noticed him at first, for the little creature was silent on his large feet and careful when approaching the wild looking being, but he invited him into his home, his smial, as thanks for saving him and his companions, and so the injured dwarf followed his host and stayed in his smial for the duration of the winter.

But while this one hobbit had begrudgingly accepted the rather appalling looks and strange ways of his guest, the other inhabitants of his village were much less cordial. Most screamed and ran when they saw him, and some scoffed and taunted both the dwarf and the hobbit who was housing him. They said: “This is shameful! How can you be sure he is a dwarf? He has no longer humanoid shape. Even a dancing bear would be better company. If only he was simply ugly, then we could get used to him.”

But the young hobbit answered: “This dwarf has saved my life and that of two more, he is truly brave and kind, and if taking him into my smial is what I can do to thank him for his deeds, it is what I will gladly do.”

It was a pity the dwarf’s face was covered by grime and hair, or else the hobbits could have seen how these words gladdened his heart that had only known harsh rejection until then.

Still, he could not stay with this hobbit, for he had three more years to wander, and therefore, when spring came, the dwarf left once more, only leaving behind one of the beads of his hair as a reminder of their friendship.

Once the next fall ended, however, he found himself back in front of the green door to the home of the gentle hobbit, and to his astonishment, his host welcomed him inside without much ado, and they spend another winter together, before the dwarf would leave in spring and return near the end of the year twice more.

This however, did nothing to still the wagging tongues of his fellow hobbits, and the dwarf’s kind host was soon bestowed upon with derision and mockery all year round.

“Take care,” some would say, “when you give him your hand, he will hit you with a paw.”

“Watch out,” others would snicker, “bears love all things sweet. If he likes you, he might eat you up.”

“You always must obey his will,” they would advise, “or else he will start growling.”

“But if you marry him,” some would leer, “the wedding will be merry, for bears dance well.”

The young hobbit, though, stayed silent and would not be dissuaded and looked forward to his strange visitor and prayed for his safety.

Finally, when the last day of the seven years dawned, the dwarf went to the meadow and sat under the ring of trees. Not long, then the wind roared, and the white robed man stood in front of him with a sullen look upon his face. He threw his old coat at the dwarf’s feet and demanded his white one returned.

“Not yet,” the dwarf said, “first you will clean me up.”

And the white wizard had to, whether he wanted or not, fetch water and wash the dwarf, untangle his hair, and cut his nails.

After that, the dwarf looked like a king once more and even more noble than ever before.

Once the wizard had left, the dwarf’s heart was light, and he made his way to the Blue Mountains as fast as he could, for he longed to see his family.

The dwarrow of the Blue Mountains were stunned to see him back within their halls, and ecstatic as soon as they realized that whatever curse had been upon him was lifted and he once again behaved as he should. His family would not let him out of their sight, and he only could appease their worries by staying close and living and working with them as he had before. And he enjoyed their love and care, and being able to live under stone again, but in his heart, he held a little hobbit, the only creature to not condemn him for his ways, even at the height of his perceived madness. And he missed him terribly. Therefore, after he stayed with his people for nearly a year, he left once more for the rolling green hills to the southeast of his mountains at the end of summer. This time, however, he could not go alone, for his sister, her sons, as well as some of his cousins and friends would not leave his side for an instance, still.

So came it, that a caravan of dwarrow reached the Shire along with their king, and they stumbled upon the fall festivals there. No one recognized the former bear, and the hobbits welcomed the dwarrow to their celebrations, for both races know well how to make merry.

The dwarf himself was placed at the table of the Thain, and young hobbits left and right filled his glass with the finest wine, and brought him the best bits of food, for the noble statesman seemed quite a catch for any of them, especially since, while they talked about possible alliances, he mentioned wishing to court a hobbit, should he be accepted. The young lads and lasses rushed from the table to tell the news and find flowers for their hair as each of them thought, he would choose them.

Soon, only one hobbit was left at the table with the king, and he had not spoken all evening nor even glanced at the stranger. The dwarf then, when he was alone with this young and unhappy hobbit, dropped the other one of the beads of his hair into a glass of wine, and offered it to his intended. The hobbit took the drink, and only when he had emptied the glass and saw the silver shine, his heart sped up. He reached for his own bead, which he had worn on a string around his neck since their first parting, and compared it to the one in the wine, and it turned out that they were the same.

Then the king spoke: “I am Mugr, the bear that you took in in the middle of winter and offered your friendship to, despite my appearance. Through my Creator’s mercy have I resumed my original shape, and became clean once more.”

He stood and went to the hobbit, knelt at his side, took his hands in his, and kissed them. “Your heart is kind and has warmed me when I knew nothing but anger and bitterness, and if you allow it, I would court you and give you all I can, as you have done for me, and I would love you until the end of our days.”

By then the other hobbits had returned to the table, dressed up and full of anticipation, but when they saw that the dwarven king had chosen the little hobbit everyone had thought so peculiar, and heard that he had been that gruesome bear, they despaired and tore at their pretty clothes and hair in anger, and ran away wailing.

The young hobbit, however, laughed as he had not since last year and kissed his dwarf, and there was no happier pair in all of Arda.

The end.”

“And the greatest miracle in this tale is the fact that the dwarf found the meadow with the ring of trees again in ti… Ouch!”

The faunts giggled, and while Kili rubbed the back of his head, Frodo climbed over onto his uncle’s lap.

“Are they still living happily ever after, Uncle Thorin?” he asked once he sat close enough to run his little fingers through the dwarf’s beard as he often did, fascinated with the texture.

“I am certain of it, my little Jewel.” the graying dwarf said gently, and took a sip of his sister-son’s waterskin to moisten his throat after talking for so long.

One of the other faunts had claimed the space in Kili’s lap by then, and asked for another story, which resulted in resounding calls from the rest of his young audience. Thorin chuckled, and when he looked up and saw Bilbo and Fili with baskets full of food coming up the path near the tree they were sitting under, he nudged the small child from his knees towards them, and loudly whispered, “I believe, your Uncle Bilbo knows a fascinating tale of trolls and _utterly_ useless guards for ponies.”

**Author's Note:**

> Bad wizard! Contributing to the inflation in Middle Earth like that!
> 
> Well, this is it… (。・・)ノ  
> I have to say, this was an amazing experience for me! Your overwhelmingly positive reactions to my chapters have been the highlight of my day – every day – since I started posting. Thank you so much, guys!! ❤❤ I was really nervous about this, but now I really want to try to continue writing. Let’s see what the future brings! :D  
> (Ah, by the way, I am pretty sure my commas are all over the place, and I’m super sorry about that!! They are not my forte, I’m afraid…)  
> I wish you all the very best! And stay safe and healthy out there! Thank you again!! ❤❤❤ Looots of love!!! Bye!!


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